


points bought

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: American Gods (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Canonical Use of Slurs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sexist Language, Shadow Keeps Sweeney's Coin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-11-30 05:09:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11456640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: “The first time we met, I beat the shit out of you.”“Debatable.” Sweeney tilted his head the other direction. “I’ve had worse times with uglier is all I’m saying.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his healing nose. “If you aren’t interested…”“I’m not.” The trouble was the opposite. The trouble was he did want it. The trouble was he knew how complicated shit like this could be.





	points bought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [days4daisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/days4daisy/gifts).



“Give me my coin, cunt.”

The restaurant wasn’t the best Shadow had ever been to, pretty standard Chinese place, same as what you’d find in any city really, but for a moment, he chose to act like it was the most amazing place he’d ever been. With the most amazing food. And nothing. Not even a belligerent, ten foot tall leprechaun. Was going to stop him from enjoying the best meal he’d ever had. Stretching forward, he deliberately ignored Sweeney as he scooped up a heaping spoonful of fried rice and deliberately ignored him again as he deposited it on his plate. He imagined he could hear the teeth in Sweeney’s head grinding away, his jaw creaking with the strain of his frustration. The longer Shadow took, the louder it got.

When Shadow finally looked at him, his face was the kind of mottled red that clashed with the orangish tinge his hair. “You look like shit,” he said, before shoving a forkful of the rice into his mouth to stop himself from fully cataloging the various cuts and bruises that littered Sweeney’s face. Chewing slowly, he swallowed and nodded. “And you gave me that coin. Seems a little rude to come for it now.”

“It was,” Sweeney said, deliberate, tempering his rage with something that was too angry to be patience, “a mistake. I gave you the wrong fuckin’ coin.”

Across from Shadow, Wednesday was watching with nothing less than the purest amusement Shadow’d ever seen. Joy, unadulterated: his good eye glistened with it and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was infectious. Shadow hadn’t felt this light in days.

“That’s too bad,” Shadow said, mournful. He tsked and shook his head and sighed on top of it for good measure. “I really kind of like it.”

The truth was he couldn’t give less of a shit about the coin; in fact, he’d almost tossed it onto Laura’s grave when he saw her. Just let it sink into the dirt and rot along with her for all he cared. Or leave it as one last offering to the wife he loved. He couldn’t really say why he’d considered it, except to say that it felt as much like dead weight as she did and he was done with all that. That was what he told himself anyway: he had better things to do than tie himself down to a piece of fool’s gold. Laura, he’d managed. The coin… the coin he’d kept. And already it was proving itself to be a massive pain in his ass. Every time he tried to buy something, it was there, mixed in with all the other change he carried, useless in a country where presidential profiles ruled the land. And it just seemed to get heavier the longer he carried it.

But watching Sweeney work himself into a froth over it? That was the sort of entertainment money just couldn’t purchase. So, in a way, the coin was turning out to be good for something.

“You kind of—?!” Sweeney swore and though Shadow couldn’t understand the language he was speaking, the message was perfectly clear all the same. Clear and elaborate and surprisingly long-winded. “You’re a bastard, aren’t you? That’s my _lucky_ coin.”

“There’s a saying,” Shadow answered, pretending a sublime coolness he really didn’t feel, “about men making their own luck.”

Sweeney spoke through still-clenched teeth. “I’m not just a man. And the United States of fucking America is the last fucking place on this gods-damned planet I’d go if I were looking to make my own fucking luck. Just for the fucking record.”

“Okay.” Shadow lifted his hands and smiled, friendly like. The man did have a point. Or leprechaun. Leprechaun man. “Sorry. Point taken.”

“Give me the coin.” And there was something in his tone now, something that Shadow didn’t find quite as fun. Desperation, maybe. Or fear. The guy really did look terrible, worn out and terrified. A loud noise from the kitchen made him twitch even. And that was ignoring how he practically shook with the enormity of the emotions he was feeling, like they were too big to fit in his already large frame. “I’ll leave you the fuck alone for good if that’s what you want. Just—”

“Say please,” Shadow said, because Shadow was learning the value of being a dick to the people who wanted to push him around. In prison, he’d kept his head down, did what he had to do when he had to do it and no more. ‘More’ in prison would have included acting like a shit to the guy who’d wailed on you pretty good not all that long ago. In prison, he’d have stayed away from doing that.

But, hell, this wasn’t prison. And he wasn’t afraid of Sweeney even if he did pick fights he had no business starting.

“Fuck me,” Sweeney muttered. Louder: “ _Please_ , you arrogant fuck.”

Wednesday winked at Shadow from across the table and even Shadow couldn’t help himself as his smile transformed into an aggressively pleasant grin. Drawing it out just that little bit longer, he kept his answer locked behind his teeth for a few more moments. You could hear the clock ticking in that silence if you wanted to. “If you insist.”

His trick wasn’t as good as Sweeney’s. It really was just a loaded sleeve, a bit of fun he’d created for himself while he tried to work out for himself how Sweeney’s trick worked. But the wide-eyed look of surprise as Shadow flicked the coin toward him, the delay as he processed what was happening, the way that damned coin hit Sweeney in the middle of the forehead before falling into his open palm, was well worth it.

Wednesday laughed, guffawed really, but the sound faded to the background as Shadow watched Sweeney, his attention fully on the coin in his hand. If Shadow had to pick a description, he’d have called it wonder.

It was a surprisingly good look for Sweeney.

At least until he ruined it by pushing himself to his feet and shoving the coin into his pocket and all but growling at Shadow, sneer firmly in place, before striding toward the exit and yelling over his shoulder. “Thanks for nothing, you prick.”

Despite the words, he sounded almost pleased.

“We’ll be at the Starbrite Motel,” Wednesday called after him, cordial.

Wednesday received a glaring middle finger for his trouble which also somehow conveyed less anger than it had any right to.

“What the hell was that about?” Shadow asked, half twisted in his seat as he watched Sweeney wander into the middle of traffic. A car nearly collided with him, but it swerved just enough at the last second to do nothing except add to Chicago’s noise pollution.

“You couldn’t have picked a better way to get yourself a date with a leprechaun, my boy,” was all Wednesday would say about it. Which was stupid because that was the last thing Shadow wanted. “If you really want to get his attention, you’ll leave some cream and bread on the window sill.”

“No.” Shadow shook his head vehemently. “I’m not doing that. I’m locking my door and he’s staying far, far away from me. Just like he said.”

Wednesday just shrugged, mouth turned down in a dubious, if accepting, frown and Shadow let it go because he could already tell there were some things he just didn’t want to know.

*

Sweeney did not, in fact, stay far, far away from him.

*

“Alright, you dark-eyed motherfucker,” Sweeney said, bursting through the very locked door of Shadow’s motel room in a bid to give Shadow the biggest heart attack of all time. His eyes were as wild as they always were, but there was a shine about him that Shadow hadn’t seen since Jack’s.

This, too, was a good look for him, but Shadow would be damned before he admitted it. Especially when adrenaline was coursing through him and now he had a shit ton of toothpaste to clean up because he dropped his toothbrush onto the carpet as he stepped into the bedroom. “How did you get in here?” he asked, but it was more mushy than that, more mumbled. All that toothpaste he hadn’t had a chance to spit out yet. Sounded more like _howjyugeddinhur_.

Sweeney’s nose wrinkled. “Charming,” he said, slamming the door shut behind him. As he tugged at the buttons on his shirt, Shadow got a very visceral reminder of the first time he’d done the same thing and considered the very real possibility that he was going to have to kick Sweeney’s ass for a second time.

Lifting one finger, he turned away, stretching toward the sink to spit out the toothpaste, his hand wrapped tight around the door frame. “Listen,” he said, more himself. “I’m not in the mood. I still hurt from the last time—”

“You proposition coinless leprechauns a lot, do you?” His affront was such that Shadow couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. As Sweeney balled up his shirt, Shadow found himself distracted by the breadth of Sweeney’s shoulders in that stupid white tee and those stupid suspenders. For a moment, it didn’t matter if it was a joke or not.

“I don’t proposition coinless leprechauns at all,” Shadow pointed out, entirely reasonable. In fact, he didn’t proposition anyone, not since Laura. And now that Laura was dead…

It wasn’t the respectful thing to do. And he didn’t want it. But a small part of him maybe wished he had propositioned him and another small part of him absolutely did want it.

“Un-fucking-believable.” And maybe Shadow was a little bit pleased with how put out Sweeney sounded. “We agreed on it. ‘If you insist,’ remember?” The way he said it sounded a hell of a lot like Shadow, enough that a tingle of dread slithered down his spine.

Fuck me, Sweeney had said. And Shadow, jackass that he was, had said _that_ in response.

“You ever heard of sarcasm?” Shadow asked, face heating. He tried to look Sweeney in the eye, but that was a step too far and the floor was a lot more interesting besides.

“Words are bonds, Shadow Moon, with or without sarcasm. You’d do well to learn that lesson before you get yourself into trouble.”

 _Isn’t this trouble enough_ , he thought. “So you’re telling me I have to have sex with you now? Like, that’s a thing you think we have to do?”

“No, but it’d be a real fucking disappointment if you didn’t after all this effort I went through. I already owe one asshole, I don’t want to owe another one.”

Shadow narrowed his eyes.

“Metaphorically speaking anyway,” Sweeney corrected, far more blithe about the whole situation than he needed to be. “I wouldn’t want to get into that kind of contract with the big guy, let me tell you.”

Yeah, somehow Shadow didn’t believe that at all. He didn’t believe anything that Sweeney had to say about anything at this point. “Shouldn’t you be a little more pissed about this? I’m pretty sure you didn’t want to fuck when you said that.”

Sweeney’s eyes roved over Shadow’s body. A considering look crossed his features and he tilted his head a little. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Shadow, because I don’t intend to court you or anything, but you’re not an unattractive man.”

“The first time we met, I beat the shit out of you.”

“Debatable.” Sweeney tilted his head the other direction. “I’ve had worse times with uglier is all I’m saying.” He sighed and pinched the bridge of his healing nose. “If you aren’t interested…”

“I’m not.” The trouble was the opposite. The trouble was he did want it. The trouble was he knew how complicated shit like this could be. “And anyway, what the hell? Seriously, you were just going to do this because I said I insisted? What if you didn’t want to?”

“You think I couldn’t wrangle different terms out of you if I wanted to?” He snorted and laughed in the most patronizing way imaginable. For a hipster-looking douchebag like Sweeney, it was surprisingly not surprising to hear it. “Shadow, I’m almost offended. Now, are we doing this or aren’t we? Some of us have places to be.”

His whole life had reduced itself to reluctantly saying yes to all sorts of crazy bullshit, so it somehow made sense when his mouth, independent of his brain or the rest of him, opened and words came out. Words he never, ever would have said back before Wednesday came into his life. “Yeah, fine.” He threw up his hands. “Why the fuck not?”

“Aye, that’s the spirit.” With more nimbleness than a man of his size should possess, he slipped out of his boots. “Nice of you to brush your teeth for me, very gentlemanlike.”

The pristine white of Sweeney’s socks distracted Shadow. Somehow he’d expected something much… grosser. That was the only reason it took him so long to respond and why he was so startled when Sweeney was suddenly in his face. “Shut up,” he said finally, viscerally aware that it was a playground taunt at best, a terrible, terrible comeback at worst.

“Make me.”

So Shadow did, his fingers catching in that ridiculous fucking haircut of Sweeney’s as he dragged him forward. Teeth catching on Sweeney’s lips, he did better than shut him up. It was good, better than good and far from nice, which just made it even better. If he’d thought about it, he’d have figured Sweeney would be as much of a dick about this as he was about everything.

Well, he was still a dick, some things were a universal constant after all, but he was a good kisser, not too much tongue—another surprise given how much he talked—and he went pliant in Shadow’s arms, willing to follow Shadow’s lead even when Shadow shoved him toward the bed. Sweeney laughed, delighted, and spread his arms out, determined to take up as much space as possible as he fell back onto the bed. Or perhaps he merely wanted to highlight the outline of his erection where it was pressed against his jeans.

That seemed like the kind of self-absorbed thing Sweeney would do.

“You gonna take your pants off or am I just supposed to admire the view?” Shadow asked, projecting indifference.

Sighing, Sweeney arched up and wriggled out of his pants and the suspenders while Shadow watched from the edge of the bed, still surprised at how easily Sweeney complied. Too bad he wasn’t like this all the time. Shadow might like him a little more if he were. Less mouthy, too. Tossing his clothes aside, he grinned at his accomplishment.

“Socks, too.”

“Now you’re just fucking with me,” Sweeney said, pushing them off anyway. He waggled his eyebrows. As he settled again, his cock jumped against his stomach, fully hard already. “Gets you off, does it?”

 _Looks like it’s getting you off_. Shadow reached for the fly of his own pants, his fingers shaking slightly as he unzipped them. He palmed himself, pleasure hissing through him at the touch. It had been a long, long time since he’d done this with another person. Voice a little shaky, he said, “I just don’t like socks.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Shadow had been intending to make a big production of it, getting undressed, but he was tired of waiting already and the sight of Sweeney like this was more compelling than he’d imagined it would be even if he hadn't gotten around to telling Sweeney to take off the t-shirt. Shadow could tell he was muscled, the thighs proved it, but he’d have bet that his chest and abdomen weren’t terrible to look at either.

Maybe next time.

Climbing onto the bed, one leg between both of Sweeney’s, he pulled his henley off and threw it at the wall. Looking down at Sweeney, he caught the way Sweeney’s eyes darkened, his tongue swiping across his lower lip. “Fuck,” Sweeney said, eloquent as always.

Shadow bent forward, grabbing hold of Sweeney and kissing him at the same time. His own cock slid against the warm heat of Sweeney’s hip.

Bucking up, Sweeney groaned and groaned again when Shadow’s thumb swirled around the head, brushing at the foreskin before sliding it back and forth, slow and gentle. Probably gentler than Sweeney deserved, the bastard.

If he’d thought about it, he’d have grabbed some lube. But this was Sweeney’s genius idea; he should’ve come more prepared. As it were.

Not that he was complaining. From the sounds he was making, and the lack of complaints, he was having as good a time as he needed. And Shadow couldn’t say he didn’t agree. Pressed against the slick, hot bulk of Sweeney’s side, Shadow couldn’t rightly imagine a place he’d rather be at this moment.

Grunting, Shadow rocked against him, finding the best rhythm more quickly than he’d have thought possible. It felt good, so damned good, better than, like lightning tripping up and down his spine, building and building until Shadow was little more than a quivering mess of moving parts. Part of him was still in disbelief, the very small part in the back of his mind that could still think properly. _Holy shit, you’re sleeping with Mad Sweeney_. And another part of him, a bigger part, a part that he didn’t like to acknowledge, was just happy to connect with someone, even if it was Mad Sweeney.

Fuck, how sad was that?

“Shit,” Sweeney said, turning his head and dragging in a deep, ragged breath, the rest of him seizing up. “Fuck, Shadow.”

He spilled, hot, too hot, against Shadow’s palm and somehow that was enough to tip him over, too. Sticky, he rolled off of Sweeney to line up next to him. The way he landed left Sweeney’s arm behind his neck.

Neither one of them acknowledged it. And Shadow sure as hell would never condescend to call it cuddling. Because it wasn’t.

“Holy shit.”

Sweeney laughed again. It was, Shadow could admit, a good laugh, warm, inviting, less sharp than expected. It made Shadow feel good to hear it. Never in his life would he admit to that, though. “I wouldn’t call what we just did holy, boyo.”

“You mean what I did,” Shadow said, laughing, too. “I did all the work.”

“Fuck, maybe. I dunno. You weren’t complaining though.”

“No,” Shadow admitted, “I wasn’t.”

Pushing himself up, Sweeney moaned and slid his arm out from beneath Shadow’s neck to stretch. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a fucking cigarette.” Reaching for his ear, he pulled one out from behind it. Shadow was reasonably sure there hadn’t been one there before. He held it out for Shadow. “You want one?”

Shadow shook his head.

“You’re missing out. This’ll be the best cigarette I’ll have all day.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sweeney pulled a lighter from Shadow didn’t want to know where and lit the cigarette. Inhaling, the tip of the cigarette lighting up orange, he closed his eyes and tipped his head back to expose the muscled line of his throat. He exhaled smoke toward the ceiling, blew a few rings inside rings inside rings for good measure. “You should be more careful, Shadow. You’re playing with dangerous people.”

He thought of Laura. He thought of prison. If there was a universal law of Shadow Moon, it would be this probably. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Sweeney cocked an eyebrow at him. “I guess you’ll find out soon enough how wrong you are.”

Rolling his eyes, Shadow shifted into a more comfortable position on the bed. If that included turning toward Sweeney slightly, his knee brushing Sweeney’s thigh, well, he didn’t mind. “You’re not that great at pillow talk. Has anyone ever told you that?”

“More than once.” The cigarette turned his voice to gravel. “Doesn’t make it untrue.”

“Maybe not. Not much I can do about it now.”

“You and me both.”

Discomfort itched at the base of Shadow’s neck, annoying and useless. He’d made his bed, agreed to the terms. He was in this thing; there was no turning back. Sweeney couldn’t scare him with warnings he didn’t need. “Will I see you again?”

“Wisconsin, I expect.” Sweeney nodded sagely, his eyes slanting Shadow’s way. He looked more himself than he’d sounded a moment ago, so Shadow called that an improvement. “You wanting a repeat performance?”

 _No_.

 _Yes_.

“I just want to know how you pulled off that coin trick.”

Sweeney grinned, lopsided and a little sappy. “Plucking a coin from air is as easy as plucking a coin from the air. That’s all I do.” Pinching his fingers together, he demonstrated and then flicked the little piece of gold at Shadow. This one was different than the original. Obviously a fake. Sweeney wouldn’t make that mistake again. He climbed to his feet and gathered his pants and socks and underwear together, slipping into each, piece by piece. “I’ll see you around, Shadow.”

Shadow smiled. He didn’t say so, but as Sweeney slipped through the door into the night, his cigarette lighting the way, he hoped it was true.


End file.
